


Incognito

by raven_aorla



Series: Sheaths and Safeties [6]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, F/F Flirting, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Loss of Parent(s), Random Encounters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-01 01:23:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13987428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raven_aorla/pseuds/raven_aorla
Summary: 5 times the GCPD unknowingly interacted with Zsasz's crew, +1 time one was VERY aware.Can be read on its own.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The first section involves a future member of Zsasz's crew, rather than current, and takes place at least eleven years before all the other sections. Sections 2-5 are from just before Season 1 to not long after. The +1 part is deliberately ambiguous in timeline.

1\. Essen

On the one hand, Detective Essen was slightly insulted that the other cops thought she’d automatically be better at questioning a seven-year-old just because she was a woman. On the other hand, all the other detectives available at the moment had the emotional delicacy of a constipated walrus.

Someone had let him hang onto a stuffed animal while waiting for her in the interview room. It was one of those Beanie Baby things. He slowly, listlessly flapped its plush wings as she entered. His green eyes were red-rimmed but he wasn’t actively crying.

“Hey, big guy,” she said gently as she sat across from him. Because of funds, recent requests for a seminar on how to deal with particularly traumatized witnesses had been denied. She was playing this by ear.

He didn’t say anything and wouldn’t look at her. Had someone dressed him in black for the occasion, or had his mother’s occupation spilled over into how she clothed her son?

“Can you tell me about your bird?”

For a moment she thought it wouldn’t work, but he glanced up at her through messy brown bangs and said, “He’s a crow. He has a straw hat and the, the all-overs, because he’s a farmer. His tag says Cawy, but I call him Cray.”

“Neat.”

“Yeah.” He flapped its wings a few more times. “My name’s Nefyn. It’s not a weird name.”

A little bit, but she’d heard odder. “Of course not. My name’s Sarah.”

“Mommy told me that if she died I should answer the cop questions. Can I have some juice?”

Essen blinked at the bleak frankness of it. “I’ll see if I can find some for you afterwards.”

He took a sip of the water someone had poured into a plastic cup for him. “I didn’t see his face or his hair. Or his hands. Mommy told me running is the most important but I was too scared to move.”

“Do you remember anything?”

“He shot her in the, uh, the tummy two times. He looked at me and put his gun away and, and, and he went away, he didn't say anything or close the door. Mommy said some people who kill don’t like to kill kids. I called the a-blu-ance and I put a towel on her so she would bleed slow.”

“That was very brave of you, you know that, right?”

He shook his head. “If he didn’t like to kill kids, maybe if I got in the way…”

“Don’t think like that, Nefyn. What adults do is not the fault of kids.”

After a long pause, he said, “You’re right. Not my fault.”

“Good -”

“It’s YOUR fault.” He looked her full in the face then. “Mommy was brave. YOUR friends said she’d be safe from her boss if she told you about the bad things her boss did.”

Suddenly the already shaky ground felt like thin ice. She had not been assigned to the human trafficking ring investigation that had acquired Nefyn’s mother as a key witness - even henchwomen could have standards - but she didn’t think that would fly with a shocked and grieving child. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart, the GCPD does its best, but sometimes…”

It evidently hadn’t occurred to anyone to search such a little kid. Quick as lighting, Nefyn yanked a penknife from his pants pocket and carved the table with one long, impressively deep scratch. “Your. Fault.”

“I need you to give me the knife,” she said cautiously. She didn't want to grab and spook him if she could avoid it. 

“YOUR FAULT!”

“It’s going to be okay…”

“It is never gonna okay, never ever ever ever EVER ever...” He threw the Beanie Baby at the clock on the wall. Perfect aim.

***

2\. Alvarez

“I’m here to bail out my friend,” said the tall black woman all in red, unfairly gorgeous to his sleep-deprived eyes. “Five hundred bucks, right?”

“Right,” Alvarez said. He was at the precinct, he was in his domain, armed, in a position of power, and he felt very small all of a sudden. He wasn’t sure he hated it.

“Any more charges?”

“We’re letting her off with a warning, since she was provoked and the injuries were minor.” Though still impressive, given that Jane had been falling-down drunk and there had been four men catcalling her until she decided she’d had enough.

“Our boss won’t have to be so annoyed, then.” She signed her name on the official paperwork as ‘Leonara Patterson’.

The moment he released Jane to her friend, Leonara put an arm around her shoulders and scolded affectionately, “That’s why we only get buzzed out on the town and don’t get smashed unless we’re home, you bimbo.”

Jane, white but similarly tall and red-clad and imposing, put an arm around her friend’s waist and rubbed at her own forehead on a hungover gesture. “They had it coming.”

“I’m not disagreeing, but you gotta be smart. I don’t want to lose you to some lunkhead.” She gave Jane a little squeeze.

(Over a year later, he saw Leonara by her boss’ side when he demanded to talk to Jim Gordon. Alvarez had the sense to flee.)

***

4\. Kringle

Kristen’s car was in the shop for a few days, but the distance between the bus stop and the grocery store wasn’t too bad. Except for when it started raining really hard, her arms were full, and she realized she’d forgotten an umbrella.

“Bus stop?” asked an Asian-looking woman in a sleek blue raincoat with an enormous white umbrella with geometric gold prints. For some odd reason, she had shaved one of her eyebrows off. She had a single, reusable canvas tote on one shoulder that she carried like it weighed nothing. “We could walk together.”

“Oh, uh, okay, thank you.” She ducked underneath and did her best to keep up with the woman’s rapid pace.

“You a librarian?”

Kristen shook her head. “I work in...archives, though. Records. It’s maybe kind of similar. Do you think I look like a librarian?”

“Slightly.” The woman smirked, but not mockingly. Like they shared a secret. “I’ve been hoping to find someone to teach me database searching, so I can research people.”

“Sorry, no. You’re not going to kick me out of the umbrella shelter, right?”

She laughed. “No. It’s nice having someone to walk with. My roommates are hogging all the vehicles.”

“I had some terrible roommates in college.”

“Do tell.”

Their conversation wasn’t substantial, but it was better than anything she’d had at work in a long time. They even sat together on the bus.

When the woman got a phone call, they were sitting close enough together and the man at the other end was so loud, Kristen could hear the first part of it. _Yoona, we need you to get down here ASAP, because this is getting more complicated than…_

“Sure. I’m in public. Bye.” She hung up and turned to Kristen. “Could I buy you a cup of coffee sometime?”

Kristen could feel the instant blush. “Oh...uh...that’s very kind of you...but…”

“You don’t need to justify disinterest to anyone. I’d be an asshole if I didn’t respect that.” She smiled with merlot lips. “Here’s my stop. Nice meeting you.”

(Just over a year later, Yoona gave Kirsten a little wave as she stormed through the precinct. _Getting more complicated_ indeed.)

***

4\. Thompkins

A South Asian looking woman in her mid-thirties, dressed in autumnal business casual with a long braid coiled into a bun, knocked cautiously on the door of the lab. “Dr. Kali Lahiri. We spoke on the phone?”

“Oh, yes. I’d shake hands, but…” Lee waved her gloved hands to indicate the corpse she’d been examining. “You treated Calvin Perelli a few times in the past, you said? Learning his medical history would make it a lot easier for me to determine how much of this is a result of the circumstances of his death.”

“Of course. Calvin was - well, he had his faults, but he deserved better. May I?” With Lee’s approval, she donned gloves as well and approached Perelli.

“I took the precaution of looking you up,” Lee said casually, so as not to put her on the defensive. “Thank you for your military service. Being a combat medic has to be incredibly difficult.”

“It was. Though not for the reasons you might think.” Lahiri opened his mouth to check his teeth. “He had gold caps on some of his molars. They’ve been stolen.”

“That’s a useful clue, thank you.”

“His nose was broken in childhood, but I don't remember that particular scar...

“Dr. Lahiri - what’s it like, being a mob doctor?” It hadn’t been hard to figure out. It wasn’t necessarily illegal, depending on how she went about it. There was no proof she’d broken any laws.

Lahiri didn’t show surprise or alarm. “Why? Thinking of another career switch?”

“Not necessarily. It’s just that I feel like Gotham grows its own villains, and if, perhaps, something could be done to help all sorts of people without judgement, maybe...I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“I think I do.” Lahiri looked at her with a slight smile. “That’s what I think being a true doctor is, you know. Wanting to help those in your care, alive or dead, regardless of what they’ve done.”

***

5\. Bullock

“It’s five minutes to closing time!” Harvey announced to the solidly-built blonde woman in a green and gold dress and high heels. If he was in some kind of detective story, she’d be coming into his private investigation office instead of his bar.

“I’m just here for a chat,” she said, which made him nervous right away. She must have noticed, because she added, “Seriously. A chat. I heard you were around when Sal Maroni died.”

“If I was, why should I tell you about that?”

She took a seat at one of the stools and leaned forward. Her nails weren’t long, but they were filed sharp. “I’m family. You and your sidekick would have gone through the Maroni records, right? Make sure everyone had been mopped up. Did you see someone marked as dead or exiled or condemned, named Cesar?”

“What does that have to do with you?”

She sighed. “It’s what it says on my birth certificate. And legal documentation in general. I’m working on it. It’s Candace now. Or Candy.”

He wasn’t a prejudiced guy, or at least he liked to think he wasn’t, but he was tired and his feet hurt and he wanted to get back to Scottie. “It really is closing time, C. Maroni.”

She took multiple hundred dollar bills out of her wallet and waved them at him. “It doesn’t count if you’re not a cop. I just want a story, Mr. Bullock. Closure. Because I hated him like I have never hated anyone in my life, not even the guy who killed my friend Jane.”

***

+1 Gordon

“It’s not a kidnapping, Jim, it’s protective custody.” Zsasz straightened Jim’s shirt collar for him, his usual manic grin in place. “Until we’ve dealt with the people who want to torture you for information we don’t want you to give them, Penguin doesn’t want any heroics from you.”

“Because you are the only person I know of who has less common sense than Victor does,” the black woman commented dryly. Jim thought he might vaguely recognize her, as well as the Asian woman next to her who was casually redoing her mascara. 

“Why not just kill me?” Jim asked, wondering why the hell Zsasz needed three Zsaszettes, one young green-eyed guy with a bandana hiding his face who was playing with a butterfly knife, and a surgically-masked woman with a nearly briefcase sized first-aid-kit to deal with one mildly concussed cop tied to a chair. All of them but the doctor(?) were literally dressed to kill in their usual black leather with dashes of wool, silk, or Kevlar.

Zsasz tsked. “I’d kill you if I had to, but you make life so interesting. We’re all fond of your adventures.”

Nods and approving comments all around. Jim wondered how much of this was a hallucination. The fact that this room looked like a basement den - complete with battered furniture, an elderly TV, and a ping-pong table - rather than a basement torture cellar, was comforting. But it sure turned up the surrealism.

Zsasz turned to address his squad. “Okay, so this bit is a stealth solo mission, no backup unless I call for it. Everyone look after him for me. We’re going to put him back exactly as we found him. And, you know, before we had to punch him a bit when he wouldn’t cooperate. You cracked our pal's rib, by the way. It was impressive."

"He says he's never ever gonna pitch in on a Gordon job again no matter how much we offer him," the Asian woman said, sounding amused. 

The blonde popped the pink bubble gum she was chewing and nudged the kid. "Put your balisong away, Knifepoint, you're making him nervous."

"Make sure he gets an escort to the bathroom. Show him a movie if he's good. Doc and Yoona are in charge while I'm gone, but Leonara is the tiebreaker if they disagree. Later." Zsasz turned to leave. 

“Now, wait just a second…” Jim said weakly.

“We do have _some_ experience dealing with the GCPD, though not always like this,” the doctor said, in what was probably meant to be a soothing voice.


	2. Bonus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In response to irisbleufic's stated desire to listen in on Candy and Harvey's conversation. I am aware that this is not standard script format. Warning for profanity.

CANDY:

I’ll give you another $200 when the story is done.

 

HARVEY:

Uh…

 

CANDY:

Want me to help you clear that stubborn drunk out of here? Gently.

 

HARVEY:

I’m sure I’ll wake up soon.

 

[CANDY firmly grasps one by the back of his coat to get him out of his chair, like a mother wolf with the scruff of a pup’s neck. She sings to herself.]

 

CANDY: 

_...As if there was an obligation, as if I owed you something. Black me out. I want to piss on the walls of your house, I want to chop those brass rings off your fat fucking fingers…as if you were a king-maker, as if you were my pimp, as if I was your fucking whore..._

 

PATRON:

Language!

 

CANDY:

Dude, it’s English. You must really be smashed. Bye now.

 

HARVEY:

Don’t do something I have to call the police over. It’ll be embarrassing.

 

[CANDY returns to the bar stool.]

 

CANDY:

I won’t. There’s certain music I associate with Sal, that’s all. Now spill.

 

HARVEY:

Well, Fish said she was cool with me as long as I didn’t get in her way during the big showdown, so I was being a completely innocent bystander. Only there because I was trying to figure out how to get Falcone and Jim out of that mess.

 

CANDY:

I was a completely innocent bystander and/or coerced into everything I may at some point be accused of doing just because my parents handed me over to Sal like a new pet dog he didn’t want. Just FYI.

 

HARVEY:

Lady, not in the mood to start digging up your past. Including anything that happened seconds before you walked in here. Not my business anymore.

 

CANDY:

Good. As you were saying?

 

HARVEY:

Without accusing you of anything, I’m gonna assume you have some familiarity with the Penguin.

 

CANDY:

Without admitting anything, I’m gonna say you don’t need to explain much about Penguin.

 

HARVEY:

Penguin was doing his schtick where he plays the sides off each other, or tries, telling people they’re gonna betray each other and he’s super valuable, pleeeease let me liiiiiiiiive I’ll make it worth your whiiiiiiiiile.

 

CANDY:

Don’t knock it until it stops working for him.

 

HARVEY:

Fair. Maroni - should I call him by his first name?

 

CANDY:

I’ll know who you mean, don’t sweat it.

 

HARVEY:

Maroni does a speech to shut him up, right, but in the process ends up calling Fish an underboss. Then when she objects, he says fine, Boss Number 2. Then he calls her ‘babes’.

 

CANDY:

That’s him, alright.

 

HARVEY:

She tells him not to call her that pretty calmly, given how angry anyone with a lick of sense would have spotted she is. Then he just keeps doin’ it. A lot of us were holding our breath.

 

CANDY:

This is starting to play out like one of my old fantasies. Except it was ‘cuz’ and ‘shut up kid, I’m talking’.

 

HARVEY:

Were you his cousin?

 

CANDY:

My dad was. Go on.

 

HARVEY:

Then there’s a moment where we think Maroni’s gonna get away with it. But he does it one. More. Time. He’s half-turned away and then BOOM. I admit it was kinda satisfying. I was officially opposed to all the bosses, of course. Would have arrested any of them if I’d had a choice in the matter.

 

CANDY:

Naturally.

 

HARVEY:

But Fish and Falcone both had some standards. Some class. Maroni was…

 

CANDY:

A stupid lumbering sexist, bigoted, transphobic, oafish waste of space?

 

HARVEY:

Are you crying?

 

CANDY:

No.

 

HARVEY:

This is a bar. I’m tending it. Technically. It’s not unheard of to get a little teary under these circumstances.

 

CANDY:

Maybe I’m crying a tiny bit.

 

HARVEY:

How’d you get out?

 

CANDY:

I spilled everything I knew to one of his enemies in exchange for survival.

 

HARVEY:

I’m almost afraid to ask who.

 

CANDY:

Best if you don’t.

 

HARVEY:

I would say you’ve got balls, but I’m not sure if that would work well with someone like you - I mean, someone with your - throw me a life preserver, will ya?

 

CANDY:

S’okay. You’re trying. Here’s the other $200.

 

HARVEY:

Keep it. I’m only lazy and greedy up to a point.

 

CANDY:

Ha. Thanks. I better get going.

 

HARVEY:

One last thing - if you hated Salvatore, and sounds like also the rest of your family, and you’re changing your first name anyway, why keep your last name?

 

CANDY:

Because I’m the only Maroni left in Gotham. I’ve won.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Candy is singing "Black Me Out" by punk group Against Me. The lead singer, who is trans, makes a good faceclaim for Candy's character except for hair, eyes, and tattoos.


End file.
